


Horses and Bathtubs

by whitewolf_dandelion



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Job, Bottom!Jaskier, Canon Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mutual Pining, Pining Jaskier | Dandelion, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Masturbation, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Top!Geralt, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), dom!geralt kinda, dom!jaskier kinda, farm hand!jaskier, geralt begs for it, jaskier has anxiety, sub!geralt kinda, sub!jaskier kinda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitewolf_dandelion/pseuds/whitewolf_dandelion
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier have been traveling together for two years. After a few broken legs, Geralt decides to get a farm to "heal" for a year, or prepare for retirement the bard thinks. Jaskier sticks around to help care for the horses and to stay by Geralt's side, yearning and pining his little heart out. Hot days lead to outdoor baths, peeping toms, and accidentally walking in on your roommate.Geralt takes charge and feelings are exposed. But, feelings won't be the only things to be exposed on hot summer days.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 130





	1. Outdoor Baths

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfic since 2015, so I'm a little rusty, please be forgiving. Super obsessed with the Witcher and can't stop playing Wild Hunt. This is a little something I came up with after I fell head over heels in love with Jaskier. 
> 
> Forewarning, I did not proof read very well before posting.

Far off from Novigrad, where there were empty fields and horses running free, one could find a farm with a witcher and a bard. There was a stable for three horses, two mares and a stallion, and a run-down house fit for maybe a person and a half. 

The days were getting longer and spring air was beginning to change, warming at midday with the taste of summer around the corner. The farm was looking more beautiful by the day with Jaskier’s hard work and the blossoming of flowers around the fields. Baths were becoming a weekly thing for the horses, Jaskier’s least favorite job to do, only slightly bearable when Geralt decided to help him. He much preferred throwing hay and feeding the four legged beasts. 

It had been about four months since Geralt decided to settle for a year to ‘heal his injuries;’ Jaskier thinks he’s considering retiring. Being a witcher, Geralt’s healing time is inhuman so he didn’t really need to _heal_ , just meditate for a while and he would be _fine_. But, for the last couple contracts he had broken his foot and leg a few too many times in the space of a month. Maybe he was tired of breaking bones again to get them to heal properly or maybe he was just tired. 

Jaskier had been travelling with him for two years before the farm, parting from time-to-time, only to find each other again and getting back on the road together. When Geralt decided to get his farm and stay for a year, he had told Jaskier to go back to Novigrad and do whatever bards do. _“There’s no material for your ballads here,”_ he’d say. But, Jaskier refused, saying he had to stay on the farm with Geralt to make sure his darling witcher didn’t die alone, plus he should learn how to care for horses in case he decided to go on the road alone. So Jaskier stayed; maybe for the reason he said, or maybe ulterior motives. But it didn’t matter because Geralt let him stay.

Staying on Geralt’s farm meant that Jaskier had to work. Outside, in the dirt, with gross four legged animals, in the heat. Jaskier had to brush them, bathe them, feed them, and make sure the fields were clean so no one got sick. Geralt helped a lot, he even did most of the work now that it was warmer because of Jaskier’s tantrums about his sweat. In the evening, they would put the horses in the stable and the bard would make dinner. Afterwards, they would sit and enjoy each other’s company, maybe he would play the lute, then they would go to bed. When it was cold Geralt would let Jaskier sleep in his bed, curled up against his back searching for warmth, and now that the weather has changed he’s stuck in the dining room on a made up cot. One might even call it a nest, blankets and pillows everywhere for the best comfort.

This wasn’t the life that the bard imagined for himself. There’s no rivers of gold or stages that demanded his presence, no women and men throwing themselves at his feet for a spec of affection. Just the horses and Geralt. 

Jaskier was happy and this was a reality he found himself, unexpectedly, yearning for. He never wanted to leave Geralt’s side, but as the months kept flitting by, the more he kept yearning for more than this. More than sleeping in the dining room, more than sitting on opposite sides of the room glancing at each other when they think the other isn’t looking, more than hands brushing when they share a meal or brush a horse. He has always been satisfied just being with the witcher, any way he could get, he didn’t want to ask for too much and scare him away. But the air was hot and his chest ached; he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to reach out and touch him, or kiss him, and _just_ have their thighs touch. 

Reaching towards Geralt, with the word _love_ lingering on his lips like memory of a sip of wine, was like diving head first into a lake of dark water with no vision of what could be once you’re inside. Yet the gravitational pull between them is so intoxicating, Jaskier might have to throw caution to the wind, and throw himself on that mountain of a man.

  
  
  
  
  


It was midday and Jaskier had finished feeding and watering the horses. The sun was beating down and cicadas hissed in the far off trees. He decided that it was time for a break, it was too hot to do anything more until the sun began to set. So he released himself of his doublet and undershirt, and threw himself in a pile of hay to lie down in the shade. It felt so nice he couldn’t help himself from letting his eyes flutter shut, the sounds of nature carrying him off into a nap. He wasn’t asleep for very long before he was jolted awake by a kick to his foot. 

“Get up. If you’re going to be useless, be useless inside where it’s cool and not making a mess of the hay,” Geralt was looming over him, his undershirt completely open and only hanging on by his arms. Jaskier had to tear his eyes away from watching a drop of sweat rolling down his stomach to his waistband. 

“It was only a quick break, a lie in the hay to cool me before I slave away for your beasts,” Jaskier pulled himself and wiped at his back. The parts of his back he couldn’t reach, Geralt brushed off for him. The feeling of his fingertips on Jaskier’s bare skin gave him chills.

“It’s not _slaving away_ if you volunteered.”

“I don’t remember volunteering. I remember volunteering to be the maid; cleaning, cooking, wearing nothing but an apron around the house.” 

The bard smiled to himself, and pretended not to notice the way Geralt’s lips slightly parted and nostrils flared. Jaskier pulled his shirt back over his shoulders, leaving the front open and grabbed a shovel. 

“I’ll head to the field and start cleaning up then, please enjoy the view of me drying like fruit in the scorching sun,” Jaskier gave a woeful sigh, “Don’t come to save me if I collapse, leave me for the vulture’s dinner.” 

Out in the field Jaskier shoveled shit into a bucket, disgusted and sweating. Moments later Geralt had joined him with his own shovel, saying he doesn’t want vultures in the field so he’ll make the clean up faster.

In the evening, when the sun was setting and the air was cooling, Jaskier was washing himself outside in a small tub, of all the dirt and sweat collected from the day. It felt nice being able to wash outdoors, even nicer when he could watch Geralt putting tools away not too far off. 

He couldn’t help but be mesmerized and allow himself the simple pleasure of watching Geralt bend over, stretch his arms above his head exposing his entire chest, or running a hand down his stomach to scratch an itch. The bard was too focused and didn’t register himself getting hard. Outside, in the tub, where Geralt could see if he were only to walk over. And Geralt did walk over, eyebrows furrowed, lips in a tight line, a smear of dirt across his cheek. _Gods he is so hot_ , Jaskier thought.

In a panic, Jaskier pulled his legs together and bent over slightly, completely covering himself. It wasn’t as if he was embarrassed for Geralt to see him nude, he had _plenty_ of times on their travels; however, the witcher hadn’t seen him nude with a hard cock with only one explanation. 

“Hurry up, I’d like a warm bath before the sun disappears.”

“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying,” Jaskier splashed a bit of water in his direction, “Go away so I may enjoy my bath in peace. One with nature and what-not.”

“Embarrassed?” Geralt smirked, only slightly.

“Embarrassed? Me? Jaskier the casanova bard, embarrassed to be nude in front of the glorious white wolf. Don’t make me _laugh_ . I only desire a bit of _peace_. A few moments without having to see your chiseled, perfect body next to my soft, squishy body.”

Geralt grunted, rolled his eyes, and took himself into the house. Jaskier nearly decided to drown himself as his cock strained between his legs. He tried to wait for it to go down on its own, but it was still up-right when the water was getting cold. 

He looked toward the house, no sign of Geralt coming out, and looked down at himself in the tub. _Truly a criminal act to masturbate in the tub of all places_ , he thought. But that didn’t stop him from sliding his hands between his legs and stroking his cock at a leisurely pace. Jaskier let himself slide a little lower into the tub, quickening his pace and lightly playing with his balls. It has been so long since anyone had touched him, let alone _himself_ , so he couldn’t stop from moving his hand from his balls, to finger himself. He bit his lip, panting, trying to maneuver his finger to hit the right spot while keeping a steady pace on his cock. _Geralt could probably reach with his longer fingers and hit it perfectly._ Bending forward, he got his fingers a little deeper, cumming into the bath water.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Jaskier grimaced as he stood up, trying not to get his floating cum on himself. Hurriedly, he threw his clothes on and dumped out the tub, scrubbing furiously to clean the crime scene. He tried to seem calm and indifferent when he came back into the house, announcing to Geralt that he was done with the bath and he may go.

Jaskier began to make dinner, bread and chicken with some potatoes they had left from their last trip to town. On the farther side of the house there was a window, open letting in the last of the daylight and a slight breeze. If you were to look out, you could see the tub to the left. Jaskier was trying not to let himself wander over there, he didn’t _need_ to peak to burn the memory of his muscled, wet back into his memory. 

Water splashed and there was a moan coming from the window. Jaskier kept staring at the fire, cooking the food, lips in a tight line. Another moan, lower than the first. _He’s just enjoying the hot water, those are relaxed and content moans. Geralt would never touch himself those are what the sorceresses are for_ , he thought. A grunt, a slight splash, and Jaskier was sneaking over to the window. He crouched to only look over the window sill, trying to not make himself too obvious if Geralt were to turn around. Unfortunately, Geralt’s back wasn’t towards the window and Jaskier almost passed out. Full view, Geralt was stroking himself in the tub, one hand lower to cup his balls. The bard’s mouth went dry at the sight of his erect cock. _You’re a pervert stop looking and finish dinner you sick fuck._

Right as Jaskier began to stand to go back to the food, Geralt’s eyes met his and Jaskier felt his body turn to stone. Half-lidded, Geralt tilted his head back slightly, still stroking himself, keeping his eyes on Jaskier’s. _Oh my gods._ In a state of panic, Jaskier fled and went back to cooking the food, not leaving that spot for even a moment. 

Later Geralt came back inside, clothed with damp hair, making no effort to address that he had caught Jaskier watching him. They ate in silence, sat together in silence, and with a bid of good night, Geralt went upstairs to bed. The bard threw himself into his nest, pulling all the blankets and pillows around himself, trying not to die of a heart attack. He wanted to talk to Geralt, say something, anything; explain what he was doing or ignore it and act like everything was fine. Fear and anxiety kept bubbling in his chest every time he had looked up at him at the table.

A few hours had passed, it had to be about midnight, and Jaskier was still wide awake replaying the moment he embarrassed himself over and over in his head. He had tried to shut his eyes, but it still remained in his head. Maybe sleeping was a fruitless fight. 

Another hour had passed and Jaskier heard noises upstairs. It could have been grunting, or moaning, he couldn’t tell through the ceiling, but it was definitely Geralt’s voice. _Is he touching himself again?_

The noises were sporadic, but they kept coming. Jaskier tried not to think too hard of what Geralt was doing; regardless, he felt himself get riled up and he was hard again. Restraining himself from touching himself, he rolled over to his side and squoze his eyes shut. The moans kept coming, and Jaskier felt slightly worried. _What if he’s sick? What if he hurt himself today and didn’t say anything? Is he in pain? What if he’s dying?_ His thought spiraling, he was on his feet and barreling up the stairs. Swinging the door open he called out, “Geralt, are you okay?”

On the bed Geralt lay nude, hand fisted around the base of his cock, the other hands fingers pressed to the spot between his balls and ass. The sheets were pooled on the floor and the moon light was making him glow. Jaskier stood at the door, mouth gaping like a fish, pants tented with his own erection. Geralt stared at him, hands still on himself, unmoving. 

“Oh my–– I’m so sorry, that was stupid of me to think something was wrong. You’re a witcher for gods sake, you’re fine. You’re just––” 

“You watched me bathe.”

Jaskier felt his heart stop. His hand was on the door and he was about to leave, but his feet were stone.

“It was an accident I wasn’t trying to watch you, I was just––” Jaskier couldn’t think of what to say. He floundered, hands moving around in a panicked state. One wrong word and Geralt would have him gutted on the floor. 

“But you did watch me.”

“No, Geralt, you see––”

“I heard you in your bath enjoying your own pleasures. Unfortunately, your back was to the window,” Geralt moved his hand up his cock once. Jaskier watched, cock growing painfully hard at the words. 

“Unfortunately––” Jaskier heard his words come out in a mumbed manner, air leaving his lungs. _Unfortunately he says._

“Come here, Julian.”

Before Jaskier could make the choice, his feet were moving on their own, and suddenly he was standing beside the bed looming over Geralt. His body is so close, naked, red and sweaty with desire. Jaskier legs began to quiver with excitement and fear. Hearing his name from that mouth made him leak. _Unfortunately_ means there’s interest in Jaskier in some shape.

Geralt reached up and pulled the bard on top of him, bodies lined up perfectly, their lips only a breath apart. Jaskier’s clothes felt too hot, too tight; especially pressed up against a naked Geralt. In a flurry of motion, Jaskier was on his back with Geralt propped on his elbow over him, staring into his eyes. 

“If this isn’t something you want, say it now and I will leave you.”

“I want it, Geralt, I want it. Please, I do want it,” His voice was urgent. 

Then they were kissing, gods, _they were kissing_. Mouths moving hot against each other and Jaskier was immediately a mess under him, panting and hot, quivering and eyes rolling. Nothing sexual had happened and he thought he was going to explode. The kissing was better than he could have imagined; gentle and passionate, teasing flicks of tongue and nips at his lip. Geralt slid his hand down Jaskier’s chest, untying his undershirt and exposing his chest. 

“Wait, Geralt wait––”

The witcher pulled himself from Jaskier, eyebrows furrowed with concern. In the moment he felt brave enough to confess his feelings, it may ruin this whole thing, he may never get to sleep with Geralt, but he couldn’t let himself be hurt like that. He couldn’t handle the unimaginable pain of never getting loved by the only person he’s ever wanted for more than a night.

“I don’t want this if it’s a sex thing. It’s––,” He felt himself losing courage as yellow eyes burned into him, “–not a sex thing for me. I care about you, more than anyone, I haven't’ yearned for anyone or touched anyone in _years_ because I want you. I–– I lov–– You see… I––”

The words caught in his throat. _Too vulnerable._

“It’s not a sex thing Julian.”

Jaskier felt as if his rib cage were going to crack under the pressure of his heart slamming against it, “I-If it’s not just a sex thing then speak more, you brute. I can’t read your mind!”

Geralt smiled, leaning back down over the bard, brushing their lips together and pulling back to look into his eyes. His long white hair was like curtains blocking out the world. It felt too intimate and quiet, every cell in Jaskier’s body was thrumming out of control.

“I would travel for contracts, but I would always come and find you to have you by my side again. Two years I’ve kept you and when I got the farm, I let you stay because I couldn’t bear to be apart.” He kissed him, “I love your bird songs, I love your cooking, I love your company, I even love your tantrums. _Julian_ , I want you to be mine.” 

Tears streamed down the sides of Jaskier’s face, wetting the pillow. Surging up, he met Geralt’s lips with his own; in between kisses he would sob. _“I love you. I love you. I love you.”_

  
  



	2. Geralt, you brute!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a confession of love, things get steamy and Jaskier is desperate for Geralt to fuck him. After they're officially lovers, things get hot again. And again. And again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea if I write shitty smut or not, but I hope you enjoy! I also did not proof this chapter very well, so cross my fingers that there isn't too many typos or things that don't make sense.

Quickly, in desperation, Geralt wrestled Jaskier’s clothes off, throwing them to the floor somewhere in the room. With new found confidence, Jaskier shoved Geralt over and climbed on top of him. There was still anxiety that Geralt would leave in the morning, but knowing he loved Jaskier too, even for a moment, the bard wanted nothing more than to ravish his darling white wolf. 

Jaskier grabbed the bottle of oil sitting beside the bed, and climbed down Geralt’s body until he sat in between his legs. Without warning, he grabbed Geralt’s cock and wrapped his lips around his head, sucking sweetly and enjoying the taste. Geralt let out a surprised moan, grabbing a fist of the man’s hair. The bard started to bob his head enthusiastically, enjoying the weight and flavor of his cock. Soon he began to slow down long enough to pop his head up, slick his fingers in oil, and reach behind himself. Whilst he fingered himself open, he placed his mouth back on his lover. Jaskier’s cock had been hard for some time and sinking his fingers into himself was sending him closer to the breaking point. 

“Julian wait––”

He let go of Geralt’s cock and climbed up his body again, lining his hips up with his cock. He was desperate to be fucked and was rushing to get Geralt inside him. The tip of his cock nudged him, sliding in easily. 

“Julian slow down I–– FUCK––” Geralt threw his head back, digging his fingers into Jaskier’s hips when he sat down in one swift motion.

He rode him slowly for a moment, feeling himself squeeze around his cock, his desperate rushing didn’t prepare him for how big Geralt was. It was hot and uncomfortable, but not uncomfortable enough to stop his cock from leaking all over Geralt’s stomach. He leaned down to lick at his lovers neck, picking up the pace slightly; he took Geralt’s eat lobe between his teeth. 

“Jaskier w––”

“I have been waiting ages to ride you,” Jaskier bit Geralt’s neck and stuck a thumb in between his lover’s lips, “Beg, sweet wolf, and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

Geralt tightened his grip on Jaskier’s hips, and moaned. Jaskier sat up, hands splayed on Geralt’s chest, looking down at his darling. It set a fire in Jaskier, seeing him this way and he snapped his hips down once, twice, and stopped, only wiggling his hips slightly. His lover bit his bottom lip, eyes glued to the man on top of him. 

Lifting his hips up, he only allowed the tip of his cock to stay inside, wiggling just enough for the smallest amount of friction.    
“Geralt,” He moved one of his hands to lightly hold his throat, “Beg, my love. I want to hear your voice.” 

“Julian–– Please. Ride me, plea––”

Like music to his ears, Jaskier felt his orgasm rushing forward; letting go of his throat, he put his hands on Geralt’s chest and rode him. Fast paced, messy and wet. Jaskier’s moans were loud and hitched, Geralt’s grunts made him fuck down on him harder, hitting his sweet spot every time. 

“Geralt I’m g––” Jaskier clenched, stopped moving, and spilled onto Geralt’s stomach. He wasn’t even finished before Geralt grabbed his hips, hard, and fucked him. Jaskier yelled, falling forward, panting and overstimulated. It felt so good, he thought he was going to die.  _ Or _ have another orgasm. Geralt was rough and loud and Jaskier began to sob. It was all too much, too  _ good _ , but before he could say stop Geralt pushed all the way into him and came. 

Jaskier sat on him, legs weak and shaking, completely filled up and feeling good. 

“Yeah, I definitely love you,” Geralt said, out of breath. Jaskier laughed and leaned down to kiss him.

“Sweet witcher, darling white wolf, I don’t think I can move my legs every again. You will have to carry me everywhere now.”

“What a terrible fate I now live.”

They kissed for awhile, sleepily and in no hurry. Geralt slipped out of Jaskier and pulled him to lie on the bed. The bard curled up to his witcher’s side, arm over his chest and legs intertwined; Geralt’s arm was across his shoulders, pulling him close. The sun was starting to rise, but neither of them could remove themselves from bed, starting to drift off into a blissful slumber. 

Jaskier closed his eyes, “I feel like this is a stupid question, but does this mean we’re….”

“Yes. Always.”

Jaskier felt his whole body go hot, embarrassed and  _ so _ happy. They were  _ lovers _ , they’re  _ together _ . Geralt’s his and he’s Geralt’s. Jaskier couldn’t stop the giant grin on his face and the little giggle that came out as he buried himself in Geralt’s side.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It had been about a week since they became lovers and not much has changed. They still worked on the farm together and Jaskier made dinner. But now he slept upstairs next to Geralt, they kissed any opportunity they got, and the sex was insane.

It was about mid-afternoon and the air was starting to cool, it was easier for Jaskier to find the energy to work when he wasn’t having a heat stroke. He had already done so much today: cleaned the field, bathed the horses, fed and watered them, and even cleaned out their stalls. He was growing tired, just wanting to go inside and lie down. 

In the stable there is an empty stall where Geralt had put up a table and racks to hang all the tools and keep the food. Jaskier was in there, cleaning off the table and putting everything away.  _ Geralt should probably clean their hooves soon _ , he thought as he milled about. His brain was practically off and he didn’t notice when his lover came in to put the shovels and pitchforks away. 

Jaskier jumped, startled by the slide of Geralt’s hands around his waist, hips pressed against his ass. He could feel the hot line of Geralt’s cock and it made him shudder. 

“Hello darling, fancy seeing you here. Did you miss me?” His voice was smug as he leaned back against his lover’s chest. 

Geralt kissed his neck, “Yes.”

“Such a way with words, you’re a true poet.”

At that, Geralt bit his neck hard causing him to gasp. Pushing Jaskier on the table, chest flat and hands splayed to hold himself. The witcher’s hands were gripping his hips as he pushed he cock against the bard's ass. Jaskier let out a sweet moan. 

“Geralt, you absolute brute. Pushing down a helpless bard and–– AaH––”

The larger man yanked Jaskier’s pants down to his knees, grabbing his cock and pumping quickly. His legs began to quiver, panting and moaning against the table; forehead pressed against the cool wood, reaching out to grip something to ground himself. Geralt didn’t like that and grabbed Jaskier’s hands, he pulled out a leather strip from his pocket and tied Jaskier’s hands behind his back so he was completely at the witcher’s mercy. Jaskier was so turned on he thought he was going to burst, this was better than  _ any _ of his sexual fantasies. 

“Be a good boy and stay still,” Geralt’s voice was rough and low, making Jaskier moan and push his ass back, searching for a touch. Geralt smacked his ass, hard, and held Jaskier still. Leaning over Jaskier’s body he whispered in his lover’s ear, “I said stay still.” 

Jaskier was dripping pre-cum, a whimpering mess as the witcher placed a kiss on his neck then left him to stand straight. Without warning Geralt was knuckle deep in Jaskier’s ass, it went in easy and without pain, as Jaskier was still loose from that morning. He wasn’t rough on his lover, his fingers were gentle and steady, curling to find  _ the spot _ . Jaskier wasn’t satisfied with one finger, he didn’t feel  _ full _ . Panting and shaking, he pressed back onto Geralt’s finger, begging for more. 

“Geralt please–– Another finger.”

He pressed his cheek against the table and tried to spread his legs as much as he could with his pants around his knees. Geralt added a second finger, curling and scissoring to open him up. Jaskier moaned desperately, almost sounding as if he were sobbing. 

“Geralt I can’t––” His voice cracked, “I need you inside me please, please, Geralt.”

The witcher had the hardest time saying no to the smaller man, and this was no different than any other time. 

“I’m not going to be gentle with you. I want to use you. You won’t be able to walk when I’m done,” He slid his hand up Jaskier’s back. A gentle, sweet touch that dripped with love and affection. Almost in an instant the sweetness was gone and he smacked Jaskier’s ass again leaving a red hand print. 

Jaskier had meer seconds to prepare himself for what Geralt was about to give him. He pressed inside of him, all the way to the base and began to fuck him. The witcher’s thrusts were hard and deep; Jaskier struggled against his hand restraints, moaning and yelling, eyes near rolling into the back of his head. It felt  _ so good _ .

“Arch you back, little bird,” Geralt grunted, his voice was low and gravelly. It sounded as if he were lost in the pleasure too. Jaskier obeyed, arching his back as best he could against the table; Geralt grabbed his wrists, chest coming off the table, and pulled Jaskier towards him with every thrust. With Geralt pulling him in rhythm with his hips, it was harder and deeper than before, hitting his prostate over and over and over.

The bard couldn’t control himself, the sounds he made were out of his control, and the drool running down his chin was absolutely animalistic. Jaskier’s cock was straining underneath the lip of the table; he began to sob with each moan, he thought he was going to explode. 

“Ger-Geralt please touch me, I want to cum plea-please I want–– I want to cum I can’t––  _ Fuck _ , oh gods, Geralt, ple––”

Geralt shoved him down on the table, pressing one hand on his back to keep him still, the other reaching around to grab Jaskier’s cock. The jerking motions and the thrust of Geralt’s hips were out of sync and Jaskier’s eyes were watering. Drool dribbled down his chin as he couldn’t close his mouth from all the noise he was making. His orgasm hit him hard, leaving him weak and seeing stars. 

Geralt was still thrusting into him, unfinished. 

“Julian, I want to come on your face. I want to see you,” he growled and bit his lover's shoulder.

Jaskier nodded frantically, he loved it when Geralt watched him suck him off, it made his cock stir even after he was spent. 

The bard gently dropped to his knees, hands still tied behind his back; messily licking at the witcher’s throbbing cock. Bobbing his head at a steady pace, he let his tongue glide up and down his cock while making wet sucking noises. He watched Geralt come closer to the edgy, face red and pupils blown. His hair was sticking to his face and shoulders from all the sweat. 

Grabbing a fist full of hair, “I want to fuck your mouth.”

Jaskier groaned, eyes fluttering; he loved being used by him and loved the way Geralt looked so desperate and needy when he fucked his mouth. 

The witcher took the groan as an ‘okay’ and tightened his grip on his lover’s hair. Slightly bending his knees, he began fucking into Jaskier’s mouth; grunt and groaning desperately, chasing his orgasm. He wasn’t hurting Jaskier, but he was being rough enough to leave him with tears streaming down his face and drool running down his chin and throat. The bard’s cock started to twitch with interest again as he watched Geralt cum. He pushed his cock all the way into his mouth, cumming hot and thick down Jaskier’s throat; his eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open with a loud moan. 

After they had caught their breath, Geralt lifted his lover onto the table to sit and untied his hands. Gently he kissed all over Jaskier’s face, feeling the weight of Jaskier’s limp arms around his neck. 

“You’re a monster, an animal. You killed me with your sword and now I’m dead,” Jaskier's voice was laced with exhaustion and bliss as he lay his forehead on his lover’s shoulder. Geralt kissed his shoulder, over and over again. The mood completely changed from feral mating to love and sweetness. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I thought you would like it.” Geralt pulled himself away to look at Jaskier’s face, “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

He lifted his lover’s wrists to his lips and kissed them over and over; soothing the pink marks of where the leather held him.

“No, no, no. Geralt, I didn’t say you hurt me or I didn’t like it,” He put his hands on either side of Geralt’s face, looking directly into his yellow eyes, “For the love of all things, if you never do that again I will never forgive you. I will  _ die _ if you never use me like a fuck doll. Geralt, I will  _ die _ !”

The witcher smiled from ear to ear, eyes crinkling and cheeks squishing under the bards hands. Jaskier’s heart fluttered and felt himself blush; rare did Geralt smile so radiantly, it made him fall in love all over again. 

Geralt leaned in and kissed him, long and passionately. Jaskier sighed into the kiss, wrapped his arms around his neck again and used his legs to pull Geralt closer to him. They stayed like that for a long time, lips moving against each other, slips of tongue, and gentle touches. Jaskier kept running his hands through the nape of Geralt’s hair, massaging slightly with his fingers. Geralt reached up, cupping a hand on the bard’s cheek, rubbing gently with his thumb. When they finally pulled away, the sun was setting.    
“I love you,  _ so much _ . My white wolf, my darling witcher, my knight in shining armor, my dream man, the love of my life––”

Geralt put his hand on his mouth.    
“Shut up, you’re embarrassing me.”

Jaskier smiled. 

  
  
  


Back inside they had a quiet dinner together, completely blissed out of their minds. The fire crackled softly and Jaskier was touching Geralt’s ankles under the table with his own. Life couldn’t be better, they could stay like this forever and live happily ever after. But deep down Jaskier knew that it wouldn’t be long before Geralt wanted to go back on the road again. A heavy feeling sat in his heart.  _ I wonder if he’ll still want to be with me when he goes back to being a witcher. How do I keep him mine forever? Can I even satisfy him forever?  _

As if reading his mind, “In a few months I think it would be best if I got back on the road again.”

“But you don’t have to… We can stay like this, this is working, it’s good…”

“It is good… But I can’t sit idly here caring for horses forever, I wouldn’t be happy.”

Jaskier felt as if a knife jabbed into his heart, stuttering painfully in his chest. He retracted his legs into himself under the table and kept his head down. 

“When you go back on the road what if…. You don’t want to…. Be with me anymore? There are a lot of beautiful sorceresses in the world and I’m not known for having magical gifts. What if you get bored and disappointed that I can’t turn your enemies into frogs.”

Geralt huffed a laugh, taking Jaskier’s hand in his own, “That will never happen, I only want one person… If I leave then I won’t be leaving without you, if I go, you come too. I won’t travel forever. Just a few months out of the year so I don’t go stir crazy.”

“But that doesn’t mean you  _ won’t _ leave me _ ,  _ Geralt. As much as a tragic heartbreak makes for beautiful ballads, I don’t think I could live through this one,” He pulled his hand from Geralt’s and placed them in his lap, his voice cracking with fear in his heart.

“ _ Julian _ .”

“Geralt. See, I know your name too.”

The witcher leaned forward on the table on his elbows, his face turning serious. Jaskier still had a look of fear and hurt on his face and Geralt wasn’t having it.

“How can I convince you that I will never love another? Must I court you and beg your hand in marriage? Jaskier, until the day I die you will be my only one,” He reached out and touched the bards cheek, “No magic, no sorcery, no frogs. Only your damned lute and idiotic ballads.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile and lean his face into his lover’s touch. The prospect of a marriage proposal was enticing, the image of matching rings and growing old with Geralt set his heart on fire. 

“A marriage proposal wouldn’t be  _ terrible _ . But your word is more than enough. I’m sorry for being a mess,” He gave a sly smile, “I just don’t know what I would do without your massive cock, Geralt.” 

He retracted his hand from Jaskier’s cheek and rolled his eyes. His insatiable bard.

“But I really love you. That’s why I’m so afraid of losing you, I don’t want to imagine my life without you,” His voice was quiet and vulnerable. He was embarrassed by the words he was saying.

“You will never live without me.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want me to continue this story, please let me know! I'd love to write more if people are interested. :)


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